Your Perfect Verse is Just a Lie You Tell Yourself to Get By

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Humanity thrives itself on drama and I don’t get where it comes from. What was the first push that forced us to weave stories out of our human life? Take from the concrete in our world and start filling in the shadows images from our mind? I don’t know.

My ex texted me.

– I saw you today. What are you doing in town?

I didn’t reply. I showed the text to Mary and she laughed.

“What are you going to say?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

I put my phone on my chest.

We laid out at the Smith park, the three of us, in the grass. It was chilly, but the Sun was out and heated us up a bit and the snow was mostly gone. The forecast said that it would snow tonight, so we might as well enjoy being outside before Earth hides the Sun away.

Mary rested her head on my thigh and Hugh sat a few feet away from us reading an E-book on his phone.

The world could end like this. At this moment. I’d be fine with it.

Don’t let me fool you, I give a shit about life. Most of the time dealing with the struggles and trials come to me I get irritated and I want to give up but I never want it all to end. And I don’t hate everything. I hate a lot, but everything is too damn much.

Just too damn much. I don’t get how people can unironically say that they hate everything.

Why the fuck you get outta bed then? What the fuck you want from life? Nothing? Go kill yourself. I’m serious! If you hate everything, why wake up? It’s because you don’t.

Your perfect verse is just a lie. “I hate everything,”; “Everything sucks,”; you’re full of shit.

Kevin Drew said it best: YOU HATE IT ALL BUT YOU STILL USE SHAMPOO.

It’s obvious what he means. You hate this life but you still take care of it. You hate your garden but instead of uprooting everything you tend to it. You hate your house but instead of lighting it on fire you still sleep in it. You’re a fucking liar. You care but you hate that you care because it fucking hurts to care and you’re just being a pussy and acting like you don’t care is easy and honestly sometimes an effective medicine against the pain that comes with caring.

That’s all it is.

You’re afraid of the pain that comes with being alive.

You’re weak.

And you don’t want to admit it so you act tough and irony is an easy way to act tough. Apathy is the cheat code to activate toughness. But it’s fake toughness.

When I realized this everything changed. It took a long time but after it hit me that my apathy and my irony that I more or less held as a characteristic so near and dear to me that to be separated from it might as well spelled suicide my life got better.

I’m still working on it. I’m still a loser but at least I give a fuck and I’m not afraid to. And I want to make everyone give a shit too.

So I’m ready to die.

Giving a shit.

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